


In My Dreams

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Long time, no post!  Here's a little one-shot I dreamed up today.  Prompt was: "Had a bad dream about you so now I'm going to check to make sure you are alright."Unbeta'd because I've got the lovely Stylepoints all wrapped up in editing my next long fic!  Expecting that one to be ready to post in the middle of next week.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Long time, no post! Here's a little one-shot I dreamed up today. Prompt was: "Had a bad dream about you so now I'm going to check to make sure you are alright."
> 
> Unbeta'd because I've got the lovely Stylepoints all wrapped up in editing my next long fic! Expecting that one to be ready to post in the middle of next week.

The doorbell ringing woke him. Daryl thought it was weird to hear a doorbell, like he hadn’t heard one in forever but he couldn’t remember why exactly it seemed so odd. He’d been napping on the couch. 

“Merle, ya here?” he growled as he rolled off the shabby, stained, floral print sofa. He’d gotten it for free after a neighbor put it out for the trash not too long ago. Or was it really long ago? Daryl rubbed his eyes as he walked to the door trying to shake the sleep from his head. 

When he opened the door Rick was standing there in dirty black jeans and an old beige button up. He must be off duty if he didn’t have his police uniform on. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood on the porch waiting to be invited in.

“Hey. Merle ain’t here.”

“Not here to see Merle,” Rick said as he cocked his head.

“Thought you was here to arrest him?” But as Daryl said it, he remembered that Rick wasn’t uniformed.

“No. I’m here cause you called and told me to come.”

Daryl held the door open wider and let Rick in. He didn’t remember calling Rick. What did he need a cop for? “I did?”

“Yeah,” Rick said. He just stood there patient with his eyes on Daryl’s like he was trying to read the archer’s mind. 

“I don't’ remember what I needed,” Daryl admitted. He heard the sound of thunder roll across the sky. A storm was coming. 

“I know what you needed,” Rick said in a low, throaty voice like slow dripping honey. “Same thing I need.” He walked into Daryl’s space and put his hands on Daryl’s hips. The archer couldn’t look away from his gaze. It was intimate, personal. It was telling him secrets and it was reading his mind and it was offering and asking all at the same time. Rick’s eyes went from the deepest blue of a night sky to coal black and Daryl felt himself responding in his own jeans. 

“Ain’t never kissed no one, Rick. That what you gonna do? You gonna kiss me?” Daryl asked softly, as if it were a secret question only between them.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Why?” Daryl asked, confused. Rick wasn’t gay. Come the think of it, neither was Daryl. But he would let Rick kiss him if that’s what Rick wanted because he always liked giving Rick what he wanted. And because his lips looked soft and plump and inviting. And his mop of curly hair and his overgrown beard looked so comforting and familiar. 

“Because I’m in love with you. Can’t you tell by the way I look at you?”

Daryl shrugged. “But I ain’t nothin’,” he responded, not sure why he was trying to convince Rick out of it. Because now, standing so close, Rick’s hands burning through his jeans as they rested on his hips, lips just a breath away, Daryl wanted that kiss so fucking bad he’s pretty sure he’d kill for it.

“You’re everythang, Daryl.” And Rick leaned in, his eyelids fluttering closed and he pressed that perfect mouth of his against Daryl’s. The archer parted his lips as he gasped at the excitement, his heart beating faster against his chest. Rick’s arms slipped around him and pulled him close and Daryl ran his fingers into Rick’s mess of thick curls. He smelled of campfire in autumn and for some reason he tasted like chocolate and oranges.

Daryl never wanted to be without Rick’s body against his again. The warmth of it, the affection in Rick’s touch, the desire in the way Rick’s lips plucked and kissed against his own. It was what he would want to live for now, forever. The next kiss. And the one after that. And the one after that. He’d do anything to keep Rick close. Safe. Alive.

Daryl nibbled on Rick’s beautiful bottom lip. All the times he’d not been able to take his eyes off this mouth and now it was his. He kissed and pecked at it and Rick parted his lips, wanting more. The feel of the cop’s wild beard against Daryl’s face felt perfect. It was rough but soft and Daryl wanted to feel it everywhere. He moved his hands down to cup at Rick’s chin. It was sticky and Daryl pulled away and looked at his palms. They were red with blood. He looked up to Rick and his mouth and beard were bloody, his eyes wet and blurry. 

“Rick! What hap-”

And then Joe was there, a gun against Rick’s temple. The blast of the gun made Daryl momentarily deaf and he watched in horror as Rick’s limp body fell to the ground. He tried to scream, yell for Merle, for… for Shane, for Dale. For Andrea and Lori. For Hershel. For Beth.

He bolted awake and sat up fumbling for his crossbow in a dark room. Once it was in his hands and he stood, his eyes adjusted to the light. Carl was still completely asleep. Michonne stirred next to him. 

“You alright?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah. Nightmare.” It was just the four of them. On their way to Terminus hoping to find the others. “I’m gonna go out and relieve Rick from watch. Go on back to sleep,” he grumbled but Michonne was asleep again before Daryl even finished his sentence. No way Daryl could go back to sleep after that. And frankly, he needed to see Rick alive and breathing with his own eyes before he’d be able to breath again. He’d been having dreams like this since they had first got to the prison. Not Rick dying but Rick. Rick and his mouth and his body and this one was rated PG compared to some of the one’s he’d been having. He had no damn idea what to do about it, but recently it had been consuming his waking thoughts too.

He walked to the front door of the small house they were staying in for the night and opened it. Rick jumped a bit from his position at the top of the porch stairs. 

“Scared me,” Rick laughed. “Still a little jumpy I guess. Other day was rough.”

Daryl nodded and joined Rick on the small, creaky front porch. 

“You know you don’t got to relieve me for another two hours, right?” Rick asked when Daryl didn’t say anything.

The archer shrugged. “Ain’t tired no more.”

“Another nightmare?” Rick asked.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the leader. “How’d you know?”

“I can read you, Daryl,” Rick said quietly. “You know that.”

Christ, Daryl hoped he couldn’t really read him. Not with the thoughts that had been plaguing him the past few months. He felt a warm blush rising up as he moved his eyes away from Rick’s. He didn’t want to be read at the moment.

Rick laughed. 

“What are you laughing at?” Daryl grumbled as he walked out further and stood by Rick, both of them with their hands on the rail. 

“Just wondering how long we’re going to keep this up,” Rick answered, his eyes on the empty field across from them.

“Keep what up?” Daryl asked. 

“Pretendin’ there’s not more between us than there is,” Rick answered confidently, his bright blue eyes back on Daryl’s. Crickets chirped and the autumn breeze rustled the leaves in the trees around them.

The sound of night time crickets was one of Daryl’s favorite sounds. It made things seem peaceful. Dream-like. And the sound of the chirps in the night air felt normal. Like standing there after the end of the world wasn’t much different than it would have been to stand there before it. 

“What’s between us?” Daryl asked. He had an idea, but there was no way he could just assume he was following the conversation. Not after so many dreams cluttering his brain. He might be misinterpreting it. 

Rick shook his head and smiled, checking back at the door to the house.

“They ain’t awake,” Daryl said eagerly. Eager for what, he wasn’t entirely clear on.

“Didn’t say the right thang the other night, Daryl. Brother wasn’t the right word.”

“What word you mean then?” Daryl asked. He felt young and naive and small as he waited for Rick’s answer but he wasn’t afraid of it. It wasn’t going to be bad. Daryl knew that. He felt confident of it. 

“Not just one word for it. Don’t know if there’s any words for it. Just…” Rick let the sentence die off as he looked at the ground and kicked a shoe against the wooden railing. He looked back over at Daryl and put his hands in the hunter’s stringy hair, pulled him close, tilted his head and kissed him softly. Daryl felt his heart speeding up in this chest, felt the warmth of Rick’s body against his own. He felt the soft breath from Rick’s mouth against his jaw each time they parted lips and rejoined them, noses bumping, the wet, tender sounds of kissing now making the crickets disappear. All that filled Daryl’s ears were licks and moans, sighs and his own heartbeat pounding faster, like a drumroll, like building thunder rolling in from the ocean.

“Rick,” Daryl whispered against his leader’s mouth.

“Daryl,” Rick responded quietly as he kissed at the archers cheek, then chin, then neck. “Daryl.” It was louder that time and Daryl was suddenly cold, feeling naked with Rick’s body no longer against him, his mouth gone, his voice distant. He looked around and saw him in a cop’s uniform standing in the field across the street. His beard was gone and his hair was short again, bandages covering his face like he’d been in a bar fight. “Daryl!” he yelled again and waved him over. “Daryl, wake up!”

He bolted awake and sat up fumbling for his crossbow in a dark room. Once it was in his hands and he stood, his eyes adjusted to the light. It wasn’t a room. It was a barn and it smelled like hay and horse shit. Daryl looked around at everyone sleeping quietly. Rick was standing by the doors looking out and it was eerily quiet. The storm must have passed. 

“Another nightmare?” he asked.

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt from a new website I discovered that was created by colormayfade on Tumblr. It's great for ideas and writer's block! Check it out:  
> http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator
> 
> Also- I'm on Tumblr too with the same pseud if you ever want to chat with me there! :-)


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